


Something for Him

by tevlek



Series: Beauty and the Beast AU [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Adult Language, Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevlek/pseuds/tevlek
Summary: Really wanted to write for Rae's batb au again. This is a rewrite of the Library scene in Disney's Beauty and the Beast.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Series: Beauty and the Beast AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145663
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	Something for Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JigokuHana89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JigokuHana89/gifts).



> Rae, I really hope that you enjoy reading this. I know it probably doesn't live up to what you imagined but hopefully some of it will make you smile. =)  
> This scene is heavily influenced by Rae's lore and sketches!  
> I tried to keep in mind the kind of language and speech pattern the boys use in the show so this style is definitely not going to be Disney friendly...

It had been several days since the night Husk had screamed at Anthony in the West Wing and he hated that he had been tip-toeing around his own home ever since. Sure, they had established something of an understanding after Anthony had helped him with his wounds but a silent agreement to tolerate one another because one saved the other’s life did not a relationship make. It was starting to look like Charlie’s master plan for him to try to break the curse through falling in love was going to fail before it even began.

“Oh, look. There he is!” 

Husk nearly jumped out of his skin when Charlie’s voice cut through his thoughts, his arm nearly knocking the bottle of wine off the top of the wall beside him Catching it just before it dipped over the edge, he shot a glare at Charlie and Vaggie. He forgot that they had followed him outside when went to check on Anth—Angel, damn it! He was supposed to call him Angel! 

Ever since Alastor’s attack, Husk had grown wary of what he might be up to. He had been quiet for the last several months when it came to annoying him or taunting the staff. He must have spotted Anthony arriving at the castle that night and was catching on to what they were up to. If he was trying to hurt him, did that mean that Charlie’s idea held some weight after all? Whatever the case, if Alastor was hanging around again, Husk needed to take a few more precautions to keep Anthony safe. 

He started to keep an eye on him when he wandered the grounds or directed the staff to keep watch over him whenever he was out of his room. Honestly, it felt ridiculous. He was sober far more often than he would have liked to be, hanging around in the shadows and watching Anthony ride his horse or walk circles around the courtyard. The solo walks were probably the most entertaining though because more than once when he was alone, Anthony tended to rant out loud. He cursed Husk, which he knew he deserved but Anthony also went on a tangent about the villagers and the name “Val” was spat out like it tasted sour in his mouth on more than one occasion. As pretty as he appeared to be, Anthony actually had some colorful language and Husk could appreciate his sass. However, after all of the righteous fire had burned out of him, he always fell back into that silent, melancholy state. Husk had even seen him cry once, hiccupping and angrily wiping away tears under the hood of his cloak and cursing him all over again. Those moments he couldn’t watch for long. They were too personal, too painful. He would slip away, sending Charlie or Cherri, whom he seemed to like, out to comfort him or at the very least distract him. 

“He’s moving pretty slow today.” Charlie’s cheeriness had dimmed under the weight of her concern as she thoughtfully tapped the nubs of her candles together. 

Husk glanced over the edge of the veranda to the gardens below. It had been snowing again in the last couple of days and the gardens weren’t much to look at now that the winter season had officially begun. Every flat surface was covered in a blanket of snow that glittered in the weak shafts of sunlight breaking through the gray clouds overhead. The dormant hedges looked like tangles of barren branches, skeletal markers for the buried garden paths leading around what used to be flower beds and circling the frozen pool of a sleeping fountain. 

Anthony wasn’t hard to spot against such a bleak landscape. He was still wearing his old cloak, the dark blue standing out against the blinding white of the surrounding snow. He was walking beside his horse, guiding him along by a lead rope tied to the bridle. The animal looked pretty sedate that morning, ambling along and nosing at his footprints in the snow in hopes of finding traces of grass. 

Charlie wasn’t very far off. He definitely looked distracted today. 

“The snow’s deeper than it was the last time he was out here. Maybe it’s just harder to walk?” Vaggie craned around Charlie. “Wait, is he wearing a dress?” 

Husk raised an eyebrow. 

Was he? 

He looked back at the two figures slowly exploring the garden. Sure enough, as Anthony stepped forward, his cloak shifted and exposed the length of a dusky rose-colored skirt underneath. 

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, picking up his bottle and taking a drink. 

“Yeah, about that…” Charlie passed her flames over one another in a nervous gesture. “I saw him trying it on when I checked on him this morning.” 

“Why?” Vaggie asked. She didn’t sound angry. More curious than anything. “None of Rosie’s clothes fit him?” 

“No, no!” Charlie waved her arms. “He found the dress in the back of the wardrobe and wanted to wear it. When I asked about it he uh…” 

Charlie hesitated, extinguishing the flames of her candles when she pressed them together. Husk realized she was looking at him now. So, whatever he had said might relate to him? He finished another gulp of wine, barely even moving the mouth of the bottle away as he gave Charlie a side-eyed glance. 

“What did he say?” 

“Well,” she tilted her head to the side a bit, hesitant. “He said: ‘Long as I’m stuck here, I’m going to wear whatever the hell I want.’” 

Despite himself, Husk snorted. “He said that, huh?” 

Charlie nodded and he closed his eyes, taking another long pull from the wine. 

He could definitely imagine Anthony saying that. Frankly, it was a relief that he was opening up enough to the servants to freely speak his mind now. It meant that he was getting more comfortable here. At least, that’s what a small part of him hoped. More than once he had witnessed Anthony saying something and then freezing, wide-eyed as if he was shocked that the words had come out of his own mouth. Was he not so direct when he was back in his village? 

Shame. He liked it when he cut through the bullshit and said what he wanted to say. Even if it wasn’t always in Husk’s favor when he did. 

A shrill squeal shattered the silence below and Husk’s eyes darted back to Anthony again. He set the bottle down, wine sloshing against the dark glass. He clutched the rail with his free claws, searching for the source, only to relax his grip again the moment he saw it. The pink footstool from the parlor was running across the snow, shooting towards Anthony like an arrow. The commotion it was making jolted him right out of his thoughts and he lifted his head. In an instant, he crouched down and scooped it up into his arms with a laugh, embracing the small piece of furniture to his chest like a beloved pet, supporting its frame with one arm and patting the cushion. 

The laughter and the wide grin breaking across Anthony’s face lanced through Husk’s heart in an instant and he flinched, nearly dropping his bottle all over again. It was the first time he had heard him really laugh, the first time he saw him smile…and he had nothing to do with it. 

He looked at the wine bottle that was in his grasp. It was still over halfway full. He should just go back inside. Finish it off in peace. The girls could keep watch over Anthony—Angel—oh, fuck it. He was going to think of him as Anthony whether he liked it or not! Point is, if he was feeling jealous over a stuffed footstool making him happy, he clearly hadn’t had enough to drink yet. Niffty would have to let him get into the hard stuff early today. He mentally picked through the bottles of liquor still locked away in the den, eyes trailing back to the gardens while he rest his paw upon the rail, digging his claws into the stone again when he realized that he was seeking him out once more. 

Damn it! Why couldn’t he stop looking at him?! 

Angel scratched at the corners of fabric that looked like pig ears and prodded affectionately at the button nose. He cuddled it close and Husk could hear the distant murmur of his voice as he talked to it, resuming his walk with the horse still following him like some kind of loyal dog. He was still grinning down at the little piece of furniture. Christ, he was still lingering on Anthony’s smile. Gap-toothed and wide with his nose and cheeks pinkened by the chilled winter air. 

_What a smile…_

As if he had heard this thought, Anthony looked right up in his direction and Husk winced. His smile started to falter at the sight of him standing there but then his gaze darted to Charlie. The candlestick was waving her arms at him, hopping up and down with her brass base ringing light and clear as a bell against the stone with every jump. The sight of her enthusiasm coaxed some of his smile back as he returned the wave to her. It was less enthusiastic but it was still friendly. When he lowered his hand, Husk noticed that his eyes had moved back to him. He didn’t look angry at least, but he did seem rather pensive. 

Slowly, Anthony held up his hand again and Husk half expected a rude gesture but all fingers remained extended, palm up and facing out. A silent greeting that was over in the span of one heartbeat. Husk didn’t wave back. He didn’t feel like he could if he wanted to. Every part of him felt stiff under that silent stare. Anthony lowered his hand again and resumed walking in the snow with the footstool still in the crook of his arm. Husk leaned upon the railing, the tension easing now that he wasn’t in the middle of a stare-down anymore. He crossed one arm over the other until he felt his paw resting over his wounded arm. It was just a wave but the fact that he had even acknowledged him meant something. It meant progress. 

He ran his digits over the bandage, tracing the edge of the linen while he considered how he was going to keep moving forward from this point. He needed to do…something. But what the hell was he supposed to do?! 

“I…wanna do something for him.” He murmured. Charlie gasped and the girls both looked up at him. He instantly regretted saying it out loud. Slouching under their stare, he tried to figure out a means of downplaying the statement. “I, uh, want him to be more comfortable here.” 

Vaggie hummed noncommittally, clearly not buying it. 

“Oh!” Charlie burst, “I know!” 

“You gonna tell me?” he growled when she kept smiling rather than speaking. 

“Why don’t you give him something that he couldn’t have back at the village?” She suggested, “Ask him what he would like!” 

“Can’t you ask him? He likes you more.” 

“No, you have to ask him.” Vaggie scowled up at him. “You’re the one who has to get to know him in order for this to work!” 

_Well, fuck._

\--- 

Anthony’s lungs were burning from laughing so much, unwittingly sucking down too much of the winter air in the process. He had played with the little footstool out in the snow for the last hour, ever since it had gotten outside and chased him down in the gardens. He had originally been walking with Dusty, lost in his own thoughts until he heard the pig-like squeals cutting through the formerly quiet atmosphere of the grounds. It charged right at him, kicking up a spray of fine powder in its wake before he was holding it. It oinked and wriggled in his hands until he had it settled in the crook of his arm, his hand stroking the cushion affectionately. The footstool was quickly becoming more and more like a pet with each passing day. Even without a face it was remarkably expressive in how it moved and behaved. He had started thinking of names for it by the third day in and Wiggles was starting to sound promising. Yet, it just didn’t feel right yet. Oh well, he still had time to make one up. Actually, he had all the time in the world. 

Returning Dusty to the stables after rolling around in the fresh snow until he was chilled down to the skin, Anthony carried his little furniture companion under his arm back to the castle. At the front steps he set it down, climbing the up and opening one of the great doors. The stool went inside, maneuvering around his legs as he stepped inside then pushed his weight into the door to close it behind them. It clattered on its wooden legs across the entrance hall, the tiny spring sticking out of its upholstery bouncing with every step, looking positively adorable. Sweet little nugget had to be wet through by now. He didn’t blame it if it was trying to find the nearest fireplace to curl up in front of. Honestly, Anthony wasn’t fairing any better in his own cloak, the skirt of his borrowed dress now heavy with melted snow. 

Removing his cloak, Anthony heard the solid clunk of more wooden feet thundering across the vast entrance hall. He turned to see the coat rack approaching him in its usual eagerness to be of service. This thing must have been a maid or maybe a valet at one point, could have even been a butler. He handed the cloak over and it took it, hanging it over one of its arms while he worked the sodden gloves free of his fingers. He draped them over the waiting arm extended to him, managing a cautious smile at it before it was charging off again. Rubbing his numbed fingers together, he thought to go hunt down the little stool again and sit by the fire with it. Maybe thaw a bit before going upstairs to change out of his wet clothes. He tried to see which direction the footstool had gone when movement on the stairs caught his eye. 

The beast was coming downstairs. Right when he was standing in the middle of his entrance hall in a fucking dress! Anthony’s palms started to sweat even though his fingers were practically numb. He briefly considered running for it. Sure, he had been fine with Charlie seeing him trying the dress on that morning but she was open-minded. The beast was different. He had no idea what he would do when he saw him! Probably what the villagers would have done if they realized his clothing preferences, among other things. Still frozen in place, Anthony realized that the beast wasn’t the only one there. Charlie and Vaggie were coming down ahead of him, dropping down one step at a time, each clang and tink echoing and seemingly ticking down the seconds he had before he would be spotted. The beast’s footsteps were eerily silent in comparison. He probably wouldn’t have known he was there at all if he wasn’t looking directly at the creature. 

Charlie was the first to dismount the stairs, her flames spluttering as she clanged and rang her way across the floor to greet him. “Did you have a good walk, Angel?” 

“Yeah, Dusty needed to stretch his legs and I had a good roll in the snow with that footstool of yours.” He explained, bracing his hands on his hips so that he wouldn’t fidget like a fucking coward. The beast was coming closer, his expression still unreadable. 

“Were you warm enough?” Vaggie asked, glancing over the dress. 

“I was fine.” Anthony looked down at the dusty pink gown he had found in the back of Rosie’s cabinet. He pinched at some of the wool, raising the skirts slightly and taking in the darkened spread of damp still crawling its way up the length of it. Too late to hide, might as well embrace it and just let whatever the bastard was going to say be said. “I’m gonna have to change again but hey, at least I looked good for breakfast this mornin’.” He winked down at the girls and Charlie giggled while Vaggie rolled her visible eye. Anthony took one last lingering look down at the dress. He was going to have to wear something more masculine again for the rest of the afternoon at this rate. Rosie didn’t have anything else like this in her stash. He checked. 

“I hope Rosie doesn’t get rid of this after I take it off. I don’t usually get to wear stuff like this in town...” He gave a soft, humorless chuckle, glancing up at the beast who still hadn’t said anything. He was watching him though. His typical grouchy expression was firmly in place for a few frantic thumps of his heart before turning away. He paused, still watching him over his shoulder and Anthony expected the judgmental glare or maybe a scathing remark at any moment. Instead, the beast’s eyes dropped down the length of his body. Anthony found himself holding his breath. 

Was he looking at the dress? Was he disgusted by the sight of him in it? 

The beast hummed in the back of his throat, turning away from them and crossing the entrance hall towards the western end of the room. “Charlie, come with me.” 

The candelabra acknowledged his order with a puzzled nod, shrugging her arms when Anthony and Vaggie both looked at her for an explanation. She turned and hurried to catch up to the beast. As she drew nearer, he slowed to a halt. Anthony wondered if he was finally going to say something this time. Instead he bent down and extended an open palm out to Charlie. She jumped up into with a grateful smile, his claws carefully wrapping around her as he hoisted her up and carried her down the darkened passage. 

“You have any idea what that was all about?” Anthony muttered out of the corner of his mouth, hiding the relief as the tension slowly seeped out of his body and he began to relax at last. 

Vaggie shook her head slowly. 

“Not a clue.” 

\--- 

The hem of the dress was still damp when Anthony came back to his room to check on it that afternoon. Rosie had kept an eye on it for him after he turned one of the chairs around and draped the dress over the back in front of the fire. He had hoped that being turned toward the flames would help but the skirt was still heavy with moisture. Maybe he should have wrung it out first? He plucked at the wool distractedly; barely aware that someone was coming down the hall until the beast was already standing in the doorway. He lingered there, not stepping inside but tapping his claw against the wood of the open door to announce his presence. 

Anthony dropped the hem; his instincts making him want to step in front of the garment, to hide it from view like a guilty secret even though he had already seen him in it hours before. 

Old habits die hard. 

“An-“ The beast halted, his ears pressing back as he uttered a quiet curse before he tried again. “Are you busy right now?” 

He wanted to laugh at the question. One glance around the room and anyone would be able to tell that Anthony hadn’t been doing anything important. He was standing there prodding at a dress, hardly something that required his uninterrupted attention. Still, he could appreciate what the beast was trying to do. He was trying to be considerate. Funny, he didn’t try to be nice earlier. If anything, the silent reaction to his choice of clothing might have been worse than if he had insulted him directly. 

“No,” he approached the doorway. “Why?” 

His drawing near to the door seemed to unsettle the beast. He shuffled back a few steps the moment he came to the other side of the threshold. Oh. So he had been disturbed by the dress after all. Well, Anthony was dressed in his old clothes now. He had no reason to be so finicky. 

“Can you come downstairs for a minute?” The beast gestured slightly back up the passage. “There’s something I wanna show you.” 

Ok, something was off here. 

“If it’s your library, I’ve already seen it.” Anthony feigned nonchalance with a shrug of his shoulders. He leaned into the doorway. “Nice selection but I don’t feel like reading right now.” 

“No, it’s not the library.” He heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. 

That sounded a little more like him. 

“The armory?” He asked, letting a little touch of hope lace his tone. 

“Not a chance in hell am I takin’ you within arm’s reach of a fucking weapon!” The beast scoffed and Anthony nearly smiled. 

_That’s better._

“Then where are you wantin’ to take me?” he asked with a smirk, folding his arms behind his back and leaning further out of the doorway. Maybe he was just imagining things but he could have sworn he heard some flirtation in the timbre of his voice. 

_What the fuck?_ That was a direction he definitely didn’t think he would go in. 

Since he had asked, the beast looked uncomfortable again. His ears were back and his fur was bristling and the feathers of his wings looked like they were starting to puff up. There were definite scalloped lines beginning to show between the rows and rows of his plumage, exposing the spaces where each feather overlapped one another. It reminded him of the chickens back home, puffing up in indignation whenever he nudged them off their nests to look for eggs at the crack of dawn. 

“Will you just come with me? It’s supposed to be a surprise.” He said quickly, his impatience no longer hinted but blatantly obvious in the tilt of his ears and the furrowing of his lengthy brows. 

“Hm,” He tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness and the beast started to growl. He held his hands up, staying off his ire. “Ok, ok. Let’s see it then.” 

“…pain in my ass.” The beast grumbled to himself as he turned and stalked off down the hallway. 

Smiling to himself, Anthony followed a few paces after him. The beast lumbered ahead, his gait less graceful now that he had adopted walking upright but it felt a bit more human compared to the cat-like poise he had on all fours. Anthony wasn’t sure if he would have been as frightened by him in the beginning if he had walked into the tower like this compared to the quick footed, silent animal lurking in the dark. Maybe he would have been, at first. He was still a pretty tall fucker on two feet after all and those claws were nothing to laugh about. 

He could feel himself growing more and more curious as they descended out of the east wing and down the grand staircase back into the entrance hall. He had already explored several areas of the castle on his own over the last few days. Maybe there was something he had missed? The palace was large enough and since the incident in the West Wing he had been avoiding that end all together. As much as he thought he had seen of it, there were undoubtedly dozens of rooms still undiscovered, discreet entrances tucked away in alcoves or sheltered by shadows cast by the architecture. 

At the end of the stairs, the beast turned to the left, Anthony stepping down with his hand trailing on the lion statue that served as the newel post. He hesitated; peering around the lion in the direction the beast was moving. It was the same passage he had taken Charlie down earlier that morning. After he saw him wearing the borrowed dress…and didn’t speak to him. He folded his arms, fingers pulling slightly at his sleeve before he jogged after the beast to catch up. He hadn’t gone this way before. Vaggie had avoided it on the tour of the castle, almost with the same pointed misdirection she had used when they had neared the stairs to the West Wing. 

Rounding the corner revealed a long passage illuminated by a combination of windows and sconces fitted with fresh candles. There were rags wiping in quick circular motions over the panes of glass as they passed and feather dusters hastily swiping away at the frames of the artwork hanging on the walls. They were portraits, paintings of strangers staring blankly from the canvas at them. The further along they moved, the more Anthony noticed a similarity among the painted faces. Most of the subjects had dark hair and eyes, some of them were good looking enough, others not so much but he was starting to realize that he was seeing members of a family being depicted here. The clothing dated a few of them back into the last century at least. 

The beast slowed to a stop in front of the only doors in the left side of the passage, nestled in the dip of an alcove. They were modest in height compared to some of the grander entrances in the castle. Only about eight feet tall but solid and painted a warm cream color with freshly polished brass handles. As nice as the entrance seemed to look, however, the beast appeared tentative as he stared down at the handles, his digits flexing at his sides before he glanced over at Anthony. He reached up and pressed his paw against the seam between the doors. 

“Close your eyes.” Anthony arched an eyebrow and the beast sighed. “Humor me, will ya?” 

Shrugging his shoulders, he closed his eyes but cracked them back open when he heard the slight rock of the doors shifting when the beast had removed his paw. He carefully hooked two claws from each hand over the delicate handles, Anthony’s brows rising when he saw the care he was putting into touching the handling them. He could have easily wrapped his hands comfortably around both of them with no problem and yet two fingers nearly swallowed them whole. He knew that the beast was big but he hadn’t realized just _how_ big. Yet here he was, being so careful with the handles of these doors, easing them down and pulling them open. 

Anthony shut his eyes again before he could catch him peeking, listening to the soft groan of the hinges and feeling the waft of air stirred by the motion of the opening doors. He tilted his head to the side, listening for any tells on what could have been inside. The soft scratch of broom bristles on the stone floor, the flapping of feathers beating away dust in the hall, they wouldn’t give away the room’s secrets and he was growing antsy to know what this was all leading up to. 

When the beast moved, he was so close in that moment that Anthony could just barely feel his warmth as he passed him. He was behind him now. There was the presence of a limb near his lower back. Maybe his paw? Was he going to touch him? Push him inside and lock the doors, proclaiming this as his new prison? Somehow he doubted that. The beast had let him roam around for days without attempting to lock him up once. Surely he wasn’t about to start now. 

“Ok, move forward.” The sound of his voice directly behind him sent a shiver down his spine. Did he have to soften his voice like that? 

Anthony eased his foot forward, taking one step and then another. He tried to feel with his feet to get some kind of an idea of what he was walking into but the floor was just as solid as the stones of the hallway. The scent of soap lingered in the air. It must have just been cleaned moments ago before the beast had asked him to come down. 

“Can I open them yet?” he tilted his head back, catching the fading echo of his voice reverberating through the new space. It must have been a pretty large room. 

“A couple more steps…there.” The presence near his back disappeared and Anthony held stone still. “Alright. Open your eyes.” 

He popped them open, blinking at the sudden rush of afternoon sunlight and then gasped. 

Before him was a large, circular room. There were great curtains of green silk velvet, each set tied back by golden cords to expose five towering windows reaching for the base of the domed ceiling. In between each window stood massive mirrors of nearly matching heights, each one bouncing back the reflections of half a dozen dress mannequins clothed in magnificent gowns that circled like ballroom dancers about a risen circular platform in the center of the chamber. A beautiful chandelier hung fully illuminated in the center of the dome, helping the daylight streaming through the windows to bathe the gowns in a golden glow. 

“I don’ believe it…” his voice came out breathless even though he had just sucked down enough air to practically scream his lung out. And he _wanted_ to! 

He was barely even three steps deep inside of the room and yet he was spinning around to take in what he could have missed been behind him. The beast was hovering in the hallway, one paw lightly holding the edge of a door as he peered inside. Anthony turned again, spotting two more sets of doors to the right and left of the entrance. It took everything in him not to sprint over and wrench them open to see what else this room had to offer. Instead, he shuffled further inside, practically in a daze and yet his heart was pounding and his hands were itching to handle the gowns that he could only have dreamed of before now. 

The dresses were practically works of art. Beautiful garments that were constructed with obvious care and tastefully trimmed compared to the tacky gowns he saw on display at the one dressmaker’s shop in town. They didn’t seem to understand that there was such a thing as “too much.” These garments, however, knew where the line was and didn’t cross it. 

There was a cream gown with golden threads weaving spindly floral patterns from the hem to the neckline. A pale green one with a gently sloping train down the back, cuffs dripping with froths of ivory lace. To the far left of the first two in the circle, stood a mannequin in a buttery yellow gown crafted from silk brocade. The elaborate pattern of clusters of wild flowers woven into the fabric alone made the dress exquisite enough that it needed no further embellishment outside of the drape of the pleated sack-back of the gown. Beyond it was another creation of soft pink, paler in hue than the dress he had worn that afternoon. It wasn’t as elaborate as the other three, a more casual ensemble made from cotton—good stuff too—with wisps of long, shapely leaves and spider mums embroidered on the edges of the sleeves and dancing along the length of the hem. On the other side of the risen platform stood two more mannequins, one in a ball gown of midnight blue with silk velvet trim and, holy hell there was even a riding habit crafted from red and black wools, golden buttons glinting against the afternoon light. 

“My ma,” the beast’s voice echoed gently through the room as he gawked. “She was really into fashion and stuff. So, if you want them…they’re yours.” 

Somehow, hearing that these gowns belonged to this creature’s mother, sobered him up from the rush of excitement he had been riding since opening his eyes. Had he heard him right? He twisted around to look back at him again, noticing that the beast’s diffident posture, still uncomfortable as he lingered outside of the room. 

“Your ma’s?” All of his giddy excitement suddenly felt muted to him as he stared at the beast. He really had been human once after all. Just like the rest of the staff in the castle. He too was a result of whatever it was that happened to this place. He had been a man. A man with a mother that he had clearly adored, otherwise, why else would this room look so perfectly preserved? All of this collected into one singular thought in his mind. Seeing him as a creature, as a beast and stubbornly refusing to call him anything else suddenly felt…wrong. 

Husk, that’s what he had told him that he could call him. Husk. 

“Are ya sure?” 

Husk averted his eyes, shrugging a shoulder. 

“She’d want someone to appreciate them.” He shifted around the door to step into the room at last and pointed towards the door on the right with a claw. 

“The workroom is in there.” He turned and indicated the other room. “That’s the storage closet. She has a lot of clothes, too much to put on the mannequins like you see out here so they were packed up and stored in there. I think she might have some shoes tucked away somewhere as well.” 

It was all clicking into place in his mind as Husk spoke that he was openly showing him this room and not just to showcase the pretty things inside but with the intention of letting him use them. To wear them. 

“You’re not…” Anthony’s hands joined together and he forced them apart, putting them behind his back and grasping at his arm stiffly to keep from squirming. “You’re not disgusted that a man wants to wear a dress?” 

Husk’s unease vanished when he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing at him as if he questioned his sanity. 

“Would I have shown this to you if it did?” He gestured around the room with a wave of his arm. 

Relief swept through him and Anthony smiled as Husk rolled his eyes, moving over and batting at one of the gold tassels tying back a curtain with a scowl. He crossed his arms and leaned into the wall beside it. Anthony finally approached the nearest mannequin and ran a hand down the sleeve of the cream gown. The silk taffeta rustled under his touch and he trailed his fingertips along the risen texture of the satin stitches, sending shivers of anticipation down his spine. 

He couldn’t wait to get started! 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” he tweaked a bit of lace at the end of the sleeve, joy bubbling inside of him even as he tried to downplay how happy he was. “I like it.” 

Man, whoever sewed this was good. The handwork was fucking flawless! 

“How did your ma get all of these?” he marveled, looking around at the other mannequins in awe. “I know for a fact she didn’ get them from the shop in town! This stuff is too good!” 

Husk’s glowering face softened. 

“She made them.” Anthony’s mouth dropped open, agog as he darted his gaze back at him and Husk smiled. “She was originally a dressmaker in Paris and a damn good one too. Her designs were in high demand for several years when I was a kid. Eventually, she had to give it up when my dad inherited this place and we moved out here. When he saw that she missed the business, he gave her this room to use as a sort of replacement so that she could keep creatin’. At first, I think she believed she was makin’ these dresses for any daughters she would have had but all she ever got was one lousy son out of the deal.” 

Anthony arched an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. When Husk looked at him, puzzled, he un-tucked his hand and gestured up and down himself. Husk chuckled, seeming to understand his meaning now. 

“Not all of us look good in a dress, Angel.” 

“What can I say? Some of us are born with it.” Anthony swept his hand over his hair, preening and earning another dry laugh. He smiled thoughtfully back at the dresses, reaching out and stroking his hand over the bodice of the one beside him. “I’ll try to do your mom proud.” 

Husk nodded his head, a slight smile lifting the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t know how they’ll fit you and there isn’t a seamstress in the castle since it was my ma’s hobby…” 

“That’s ok, I know how to sew.” Anthony waved off the concern. Husk’s eyebrows lifted but soon relaxed again as if he reasoned that he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Anthony had pinned his dress to fit him himself early that morning. Now that he had access to what was likely a treasure trove of sewing supplies, he could so so much more than make do with what he had. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. “I’m takin’ full advantage of that work room!” 

Not that he intended to rip these gowns apart. Fuck that! They were _gorgeous_ and he wasn’t going to disrespect Husk’s mother’s handiwork like that! No, he could just alter them to fit a bit better. He was sure his narrow shoulders would be fine in the gowns but the lack of bust might make them hang a little funny. He could fix that easily enough. Maybe let out the hems, considering he stood taller than most of the mannequins in the room. 

“Well, you’re free to use this room as much as you like.” Husk pushed himself off of the wall, dropping his arms and heading for the doors on the right. He eased them open and Anthony practically jogged over to see inside. 

The work room consisted of two long tables on either side. Each table was wide enough to accommodate the full width of a bolt of fabric with plenty of length for roughly three meters to be unfurled across. There were shears and scissors hanging from hooks mounted to the wall and a pot belly stove in the back to help heat the room in the winter months as well as provide the fire to heat the selection of irons that were stacked neatly on a shelf beside it. Above the tables were shelves filled with jars of buttons and thimbles, pins, a cake of beeswax and even a cushion of needles. Glass apothecary jars filled to the top with spools of thread in silk, linen and cotton, created a rainbow of color across the span of a lower shelf. Cards bearing coiled lengths of lace and other trims were neatly stacked in shallow cedar boxes along the shelf above the thread. There were even hat blocks for millinery work on the topmost one. He hadn’t experimented with hat making before but maybe the presence of them meant that there might have been some tucked away in the storage room? 

Everything looked as it probably did the last time Husk’s mother had walked out of the workroom. There was a padded stool still drawn away from the table’s edge and a spool of ribbon sitting upright beside an abandoned basket containing dozens more. She must have been looking at them for inspiration on her next project before being called away for something. The silk ribbon currently sitting solitary on the table was a beautiful crimson color. He wondered what she was planning to use it for. A hat or maybe to create ribbon flowers on a dress? The more he thought about it, the more acutely he felt a sting in his chest. Whatever she was going to use it for, it was never going to be finished. The staff never mentioned Husk’s mother being in the castle. They never mentioned her at all, actually. It was the deliberate avoidance of her that was leading him to believe that Husk’s mother was gone and had been for a long time. 

Much like his. 

“There should be firewood brought in by tonight.” Husk said, bringing him out of his thoughts as he started backing out of the smaller doorway, his tone pinched. Anthony didn’t question it. He cast one more look around the workroom before following him back into the main chamber and shut the door behind him. Husk trailed further into the chamber, looking at the windows and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck before he sighed. “I think I hovered long enough. I’ll leave ya to it.” 

Anthony started to look over the green dress, hands running along the smooth silk of the train. Some of the dresses probably wouldn’t suit him but that’s what the mirrors were for, to try them on and see what he had to work with. Besides, even if all of these didn’t work out, Husk said that there were more in the storage room. He couldn’t believe that he went from digging one sorry dress from the back of Rosie’s cabinet to having an entire fucking room of dresses and the means of making sure said dresses fit! And Husk was just giving it to him… 

He glanced up at a mirror where he could see his retreating figure. 

“Hey, Husk.” At the sound of his name, his ears bolted up stark straight and his entire body went rigid. Anthony smiled at the rather comedic result of his casual address, a strange fondness seeping into his heart as he crossed an arm over himself and lightly rubbed at the sleeve of his shirt. Damn, he was feeling so fidgety today! “Thanks.” 

Anthony nearly giggled at the wide-eyed expression still lingering on his face when he looked back at him. Clearing his throat, Husk shook his head and then, with his familiar frown back in place, gave a slow nod. 

“You’re welcome, Angel.” 

He winced at the nickname. 

Yeah, he had told him to call him that but in this moment, after receiving such a gift… 

“Anthony.” He corrected, abandoning the mannequin to approach him, holding out his hand. “You can call me Anthony.” 

Husk stared down at the hand offered to him. He slowly took it, his paw engulfing it and Anthony felt another shiver run down his spine. This one, however, had nothing to do with the dresses. After a perfunctory shake, Husk relaxed his digits to pull away. Anthony let himself drag his fingers briefly over the uniquely shaped paw pad that had pressed against his palm, feeling the skin-like texture peeking out of his dark fur before sliding his hand away. 

“You’re welcome, Anthony.” Husk mumbled, clearly flustered even though he couldn’t see any hint of blush. It was clear in the lay of his ears and the way his eyes lingered on anything but him. He was out of his element and it was practically adorable even in the face of a monstrous-looking cat creature. 

Husk left after that and Anthony turned around to take in the room all over again. 

It was his. This was all his now. Every scrap of lace, every skirt and bodice, it was all his to use and wear as much as he pleased and no one was going to look at him sideways for it. For the first time in his life, he was free to dress in what suited him and not what suited society. With a wide grin spreading across his face, he closed his eyes, balled his fingers into tight fists against his chest and with every ounce of relief, excitement and even joy inside of him, squealed it all out like a fucking school girl.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> When it came to the dresses, I ended up just keeping them kind of vague. Some of them are based on historical garments from the 1740's but because this is based on a Disney film, I'll just let you imagine the gowns however you want with the little tid-bits of descriptions I tossed in there. I really wanted to go full ham on the dresses because I love historical dress and sewing in general but, for the sake of keeping the story going, I reigned it in. lol.


End file.
